


Dreams of the Hunt

by rhodrymavelyne



Series: Sisterhood of the Witchblade [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Witchblade (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Another cop, just a mortal cop fighting a mad world full of monsters. It's too much for Kate Lockley. Only she's not alone. The Witchblade has found her...and so has Sara Pezzini.Only what is real and what are visions? This is a question Sara faces all the time and now Kate has to as well...





	Dreams of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 2 of Sisterhood of the Witchblade, an ongoing story which has been growing inside my imagination for years, ever since I saw the Witchblade TV pilot, followed by an episode of Angel called Sense and Sensitivity. A similarity between Yancy Butler's Sara Pezzini and Elisabeth Rohm's Kate Lockley struck me, giving birth to this ongoing story in fragments...
> 
> Sisterhood of the Witchblade is based solely on the Witchblade TV show and Angel. I don't own either. It's more of a sismance than pure f/f between Sara Pezzini and Kate Lockley, although their relationship dominates this ongoing story...

Kate Lockley had chased suspects down this alley before. She wasn’t new to these tricks. 

The problem was her quarry was one with the dirt, the filth, and the trash which lay forgotten here. The alley was Eris’s ally. 

Only she was burdened with a strugging, screaming woman who was not going to make flight easy for her.

“What a disappointment.” Eris stopped, holding Karen Bronte by the hair. “You may be a blood heir to the Witchblade, but you fight like a girl.”

“Why don’t you try me, Eris?” Kate should have had her gun. Stupid cops too often ended up dead cops. Her father’s words rang in her memory while she walked up the alley, not daring to glance at Karen. 

Keep your eyes on your quarry. Don’t draw her attention to your long lost sister. Keep the predator’s attention fixed on you. 

Steel blue eyes filled with a cool, wilful purpose met Kate’s, too like the ones she kept seeing in her dreams. 

They weren’t all that dissimilar from the ones she saw in the mirror. 

“Let the girl go.” Kate gave her step a provoking swagger, the universal cop taunt meant to enrage suspects into doing something stupid. “Why don’t you pick on a blood heir who can actually give you a fight?”

She sent a private stream of thought to Karen while she did.

*She’s distracted. Take advantage of it.*

Karen did her best. She aimed a kick at Eris’s midriff. 

Only to have Eris bring her elbow down on the model’s leg. 

Karen crumpled to the ground, moaning, clutching at her calf. 

“Guess they don’t make blood heirs like they once did.” Eris turned toward Kate, still half crouched, a predator ready to strike. “Don’t be as disappointing as she was, Katie-Kat.”

She lunged at Kate. 

Kate held up an arm to block Eris’s strike…only to feel the cold metal of a gauntlet, imbued with the warmth and memory of many women covering her flesh. 

The L.A. cop opened her eyes, stared at the bracelet pulsing on her wrist. She lifted her arm to the level of her eyes while she sat up.

The stone studied her with the intensity of a red eyeball. 

Kate slid out of her bed and walked over to the mirror, looked at herself. 

Steel blue eyes studied her from the other side of the glass, set in a face with high cheekbones, entirely too much like Eris’s. Brown hair spilled over her shoulders, adding an almost waifish look to her face, except for those eyes. They were no waif’s. They belonged to a queen, a warrior, or a goddess. 

“You.” Kate spoke, a voice deeper than her own threaded with hers. Traces of a New York accent crept in. “Who are you?”

Sara awoke in her own bed, an arm lying over the side. She lifted it to study the glowing stone, still pulsing with images of the blonde woman whose life she’d briefly led. 

“I might ask you the same thing,” she murmured into the silence of the early morning.


End file.
